


A boy does not ache for his father's masculinity. He aches for his father's heart.

by kestra_troi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alive John Winchester, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Anal Sex, Banter, Beer as Lube, Bisexual Sam Winchester, Bottom John, Bottom John Winchester, Creampie, Dead Mary Winchester, Dirty Talk, Father-Son Relationship, Father/Son Incest, Felching, Front Porch Sex, Immorality, Implied Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Incest, Incest Kink, Infidelity, Internal Monologue, John is Hairy, M/M, Masturbation, Older Man/Younger Man, Outdoor Sex, POV John Winchester, Parent/Child Incest, Past John Winchester/Mary Winchester, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Public Nudity, Rural Setting, Sam is Engaged, Sexual Inexperience, Shameless Smut, Spit As Lube, Top Sam, Top Sam Winchester, Wall Sex, mention of teen Sam, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 07:53:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13359870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kestra_troi/pseuds/kestra_troi
Summary: Sam's visit to his father's house in rural Kansas doesn't go as expected.SEX obviously.





	A boy does not ache for his father's masculinity. He aches for his father's heart.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by and partly based on an incestuous, homoerotic story I found on Nifty filed under Bill Drake’s horny-dad-tales. I give him all due credit.
> 
> Title is a T. Real quote.
> 
> This is set in a WIAWSNB-style world: the Winchesters aren't hunters, Dean and Sam aren't particularly close, and Sam is engaged to Jess. However, in this AU Mary still died in a fire and John used the insurance money to buy some property, which is the setting for this fic.
> 
> Words in italics represent John’s internal monologue.

“I can taste my come inside you, sir,” Sam uncertainly announced, crouching between his father’s raised legs, slowly coaxing him open again with his tongue. The burly, older Winchester hummed in the back of his throat acknowledging him, but not otherwise saying a word. He simply spread his legs further apart, as far as they would go in his cheap, plastic patio chair.

The porch creaked under Sam’s knees as he shifted his weight forward, searching deeper inside his father for the rivulets of come not already plastered and dried on the backs on his father’s hairy thighs. John sighed, his dick inching to full hardness up over his gut with every expert swipe of his son’s tongue. _He’s clearly slept with other men_ , John deduced, _I’ll investigate that later._

Setting his beer on the patio table beside him, John gently cupped the back of his son’s head. _He needs a haircut_ , he mused. He grinned internally at his own ridiculousness. “Get inside me, son,” he whispered huskily.

“Think you’re ready to take my dick again, dad?” Sam smirked, boastfully leering up at his father. The withering expression John offered him did nothing to deter his growing erection.

“You like it, don’t you, son?” John hypothesized. “Being the big man on campus, the king of the rock, and topping your old man? Gives you a rush, doesn’t it, Samuel?”

“Yes, sir,” Sam proudly confirmed. The porch woodenly protested as Sam stood up, stroking his erection in his father’s face. The late afternoon sun blazing at his back gave his naked, sweaty form a golden sheen.

John ignored his son’s impressive cock and youthful glow, instead staring back at him, man to man, a challenge gleaming behind his eyes. “Does your fiancée know about your proclivities?”

“She knows I’m bi,” Sam replied, shrugging with one shoulder as he continued jerking off with a good-naturedly competitive spirit. “And she knows that I sleep with guys from time to time, to blow off steam. Did Mom know about you?”

“I never cheated on your mother, Samuel,” John calmly replied. “But, no, I never told her about my attraction to men. In fact, the subject has never come up before now.”

“Seriously?” Sam quirked his eyebrow, incredulous. His hand paused at the base of his cock. “Not even in the Marines?”

“I admit I handled a cock or two,” John explained matter-of-factly. “Had my own dick sucked a couple of times by my fellow soldiers, but never anything like this. Like you said earlier, son: you popped my cherry.”

For the first time all day, Sam blushed. His dick throbbed markedly in his hand. They both noticed. “Thanks, dad,” Sam murmured.

“For what?” John lightly stroked the length of his dick with his fingers fighting off mature-man’s wilt. Sam gestured with his hands indicating his body, and the porch, and everything they were doing: lounging naked on the front porch together after a day’s work, sharing a couple beers, having sex, being honest and upfront with each other without yelling and screaming.

He didn’t have to say the words. They both understood.

“You’re welcome, son,” John gravelly returned. Half-jokingly, he remarked, “And I would say thank you back, but I don’t want it going to your head.”

Even as a smile pulled at the corner of his lips, Sam snorted, and shook his head disapprovingly. “So? You ready for my dick, pops?”

“Give it to me, son,” John earnestly whispered. He reached out his hand and touched his son’s dick for the first time in their respective lives. Sam gasped, arching into his father’s twisting, self-assured grip. “Give me your beautiful cock.”

“Dad,” he mumbled sounding so young and somehow innocent.

Something sharp and ugly stabbed John in the heart, tightening his chest. He let his hand drop, leaving his son’s erection to bob wantonly in the open air. He breathed, in and out, deliberate and gradual. His dick softened, lying weakly on his hairy stomach.

For a moment everything seemed wrong and dark. Mechanically, he took a swift chug of his beer, staring blankly out at his yard over his son’s shoulder. The cold beer settled him. He polished it off, dropping the empty bottle onto the porch.

He looked back at his son and saw him, truly: as an adult, a grown man; a man seeking a connection, a bond with his father, a way to make sense of their history and a different direction for their future.

“Dad?”

John snapped out of his reverie. _I must be getting old_. He reached around his spread legs, probed his slightly puffy, deliciously sensitive rim with his hands, and met his son’s concerned eye. “What are you waiting for Samuel? An engraved invitation?”

“No, sir,” Sam politely chuckled. He grabbed his mildly flagging erection and rapidly brought himself to full, throbbing hardness again.

“Show your old man what you got, son,” John tauntingly encouraged. “Pop my cherry again.”

“Yes, sir!” No arguments, no sarcasm, no begrudging compliance. Sam stepped closer to his father and bent his knees until his dad’s puckered hole came into range. He spat precisely onto his dick, obviously from experience, smearing his saliva around his leaking tip, and then he tapped the blunt head against his father’s hole. John shakily inhaled. Sam stopped. “Should I go and get the lube? Or, maybe, a condom?”

“No, son.” John shook his head. He clutched his son’s shaft with both hands, one somewhat cooler than the other, and massaged Sam’s thick manhood like it might be a tense muscle in need of relief.

Sam shook, his head lolling back. “Dad…”

Thinking on his feet, metaphorically speaking, John grabbed his son’s tepid, half full beer off the patio table. “It’s just you and me, out on my front porch, enjoying our beers,” he said, tipping the bottle over, so that it poured over his son’s dick.

“Shit.” Sam shuddered, pressing his drenched tip into his father’s furry hole. John swore, momentarily forgetting the beer. He hissed and reopened his eyes as Sam continued to breach him. He emptied the rest of the bottle on the rest of his son’s dick, soaking up to his boy’s groomed pubes with alcohol before tossing the bottle haphazardly away.

It landed behind Sam shattering appropriately somewhere in the front yard. _Tomorrow’s problem._ John gnashed his teeth, groaning, as his hole for the second time today stretched around his son’s erection. He steadied his breathing, practiced relaxing his hole, and tugged on his dick to ease the burn. _Twice in one day…_

“You horny, little bastard,” John huffed in feigned annoyance. He gripped his son’s hips, pulling him all the way in and holding him there.

“It’s your fault,” Sam playfully asserted, his honest feelings hidden inside those three simple words.

“How long have you wanted this, Samuel?” John asked, mildly perturbed by the fact that he hadn’t put the puzzle together sooner. “How long have you waited to get at my ass?”

“Since I was sixteen,” Sam replied, forthrightly. “When I walked in on you and Molly Prodder’s mother.”

“I don’t remember that,” John said, breezily contesting his son’s memory the way all parents do, while absently stroking his dick.

“You never saw me,” Sam explained. “You were so wrapped up in her, and she in you, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I must’ve watched for a solid minute before I snuck back out.”

“That was the first night you jacked off to your old man, wasn’t it?” John proposed.

“Yes, sir.” Sam rolled his hips. Both Winchesters moaned.

“I don’t know which one of us is more perverted,” John muttered jokily, in all seriousness. “Teenaged you masturbating to your own father or me now letting my own son top me.”

“Does it matter?” Sam questioned. His face tensed.

“No, not really,” John quietly confessed. He swatted his son’s ass. “You proud of yourself, Samuel? Proud of finally getting your old man on his back, with his legs in the air like a cheap whore?”

“Yes, sir,” Sam purred, playing along. He gave a cautious, half formed thrust. “Spearing you on my dick is the biggest rush I’ve ever had.”

“Damn well better be,” John puffed, scrunching his face and squeezing his eyes shut. “Don’t hurt your old man’s pride, son.”

“Never,” Sam impishly promised. He smiled, genuinely amused, slowly rocking his hips in and out. Surprised at himself, Sam leaned over his sweaty, hirsute father, his intentions clear. “Dad?”

Blinking against the sunlight, John opened his eyes again, momentarily stunned to find Sam so close. _When’s the last time I even hugged him_ , John suddenly wondered. He couldn’t mistake the softness in his son’s expression for anything else.

Tentatively, John cupped his son’s face between his calloused hands, lovingly sweeping Sam’s unruly bangs out of his eyes. “Go ahead, son,” he whispered. “Give your old man a kiss.”

“Dad,” Sam gushed, immediately diving down to capture his lips. His dad’s beard chafed his chin, scratching at him like he always imagined it would, but his lips felt soft and yielding in a way he never predicted, but should’ve known. Lips are lips. Even when they are your father’s.

“I’m proud of you, son,” John panted unashamedly, his hands sliding through sweat-dampened hair to the back of Sam’s neck. He pulled his son down until their foreheads touched. “I’ve always been proud of you, Sam.”

Sam whined brokenly, urgently crashing their lips together again. Over and over, while he got busy wildly fucking his father in broad daylight out on their front porch for all the world to see.

 _Where’s a neighbor when you need one_ , John passingly thought, his mind going astray as his son pounded into him. For a fleeting moment he regretted the fact that his nearest neighbor lived half a mile down the road. _Let them see…_ John blushed at his own perversion.

 _“A contrarian,”_ _dad always said, “Never following the rules. Always going his own way. And never looking back!”_ John chortled, moaning as Sam constantly brushed against his prostate. _I am now, pops. You happy now?_

“Wrap your arms around my neck,” Sam instructed.

“What?”

“Wrap your arms around my neck,” Sam repeated, snapping his hips harder to wake his father up.

“Why?” John questioned.

“Just do it,” Sam demanded, thrusting harder again as if to bully his father into obedience. John grumbled, bristling at that old, familiar tone, but he acquiesced.

Once his arms locked in place and his legs crossed around Sam’s waist instinctively, his son grunted hauling them upright and then further up. “Sam!?”

“I got you, pops,” Sam hurriedly reassured. He panted and puffed, his muscles obviously straining, but he held John aloft as he staggered towards the house. “Don’t worry. I got you.”

Gravity pulled at him, but Sam kept him in place, bouncing him on his dick like a weightless sex doll. “Sam,” John moaned, admittedly awed at his son’s display of strength. _He’s a beast!_

They crashed into the side of the house, their lips tumbling against each other in a mess of teeth and tongues. “Call me Sammy,” the younger Winchester wheezily insisted.

“Sammy,” John respectfully mumbled. Sam whimpered, fervently claiming his father’s mouth with his own.

“Daddy? Dad? John?” Sam listed, nipping his father’s bottom lip with his teeth.

“Dad’ll do,” John replied. “Just call me, dad.”

“Dad!” Sam fucked him relentlessly, sweating and lowing like a bull in rut, holding him up against the wall far longer than John considered possible. _Always was an overachiever_.

Sam redoubled his thrusts.

“Fuck!” John howled. _Gotta stop underestimating him!_

“I’m gonna come,” Sam warned.

“Do it, Sammy,” John cooed, hastily jerking off while his son still fucked him, their lips so close they breathed the same humid air. “Gimme that load again, son. Come inside me, like a man.”

That old, familiar barb zinged through Sam like an electric current. With on last deep plunge, he bellowed, shooting his load inside his father for the second time ever. “So good,” Sam mindlessly gibbered. “Still so good!”

“Sammy!” John didn’t lag behind long, spraying his load on and between their bellies: one smooth the other hairy; one middle-aged the other young and taut. Yet for once no competition, no struggle for control; for once not father versus son.

They sagged with relief.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments welcome!


End file.
